


Something Not There

by RatFlavored



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M, Stanford Era (Supernatural), Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 05:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RatFlavored/pseuds/RatFlavored
Summary: It's been seven months since Sam had left for Stanford. Seven months since he'd last seen Dean. Now he's at a house party and needs him there.





	Something Not There

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, I didn't think I'd ever write Stanford Sam, but here I am. I listened to The Pixies on loop while writing this. 
> 
> I owe [Sintari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalSintari/profile) everything for being a great beta, as always. Go check out her writing, shes amazing.

Sam realized he was an inch taller than Dean now. Maybe an inch, maybe a little more. Dean raised his chin like it would even out the disparity in their height. But even if they were on the same level, Sam would still feel like he was on another plane of existence. They didn’t align anymore, not like they used to.

Seven months ago, it was tough to spot a distinction between them. They shared clothes, food. They had the same tired expression from taking care of their vengeance-hungry drunk of a father. 

Now, Sam had a Stanford shirt with an Abercrombie long sleeve polo underneath, and Dean was still wearing some faded blue shirt he picked up at Goodwill two years earlier. Sam knows there are a couple belt buckle holes in the midsection and a puncture on the collar from a werewolf claw.

Sam found his eyes drifting there, lingering on the dime-sized hole. The edges were dark brown, stained with blood that wouldn’t wash out. Sam wanted to poke a finger and touch the sliver of skin there, hook in and pull at the threadbare fabric-

Ah shit. He needed to focus. Dean was right here in the doorway. Staring at him with hard eyes. Waiting for him to say something. The last time they spoke Sam had ignored him and left for college. 

The beating bass from the blaring music of the party going on behind him served as a contrast to outside. Silence from Dean as he stood on the doorstep, surrounded by a manicured lawn and trimmed shrubs. He looked out of place in the suburban landscape. A muscle car in a sea of white SUVs. 

“Sam.” 

Sam could see Dean’s jaw clench around his name. 

An hour ago, it seemed like a great idea to call Dean. _Come, A-S-A-P._ He had slurred into the receiver, followed by an address. He had wanted all of his friends to meet Dean. Everyone liked Dean, and if they liked Dean, they’d like him.

Sam looked down into his half full can of beer. He rubbed a thumb against the wet condensation on the side. Now that thought seemed stupid. He raised his drink and downed it. Needed to get back to that happy drunk place, not the buzzed regret he felt now.

“Hey.” Sam gave a half smile and moved out of the doorway. He could still introduce his friends to Dean. They’d think he was cool. Dean came so they could talk or something. Maybe they could talk after a couple beers. More, knowing how Dean could drink. “Come in, I have a buncha guys I want you to meet.” 

Dean took a glance to his right, giving the impala a long look before he made a move to go inside. He lead with his shoulder, maintaining a distance between him and Sam. 

Sam watched as Dean took in his surroundings. Although the lights were low, it was still clear that this place was ritzy. Vaulted ceilings, skylights, two-story foyer. One of Sam’s classmate’s rich parents were out of town. 

Dean’s nose wrinkled. 

Well. 

Sam hoped Dean couldn’t smell the hint of weed in the air. 

“Let’s grab a beer first.” Sam squeezed between people to get to the kitchen. Along the way, Sam caught Dean eyeing the decor, all vegetable themed. Portraits of carrots, “farm fresh” signs, and peas in a pod salt and pepper shakers were all over the place. Sam doubted any of the people in the Palo Alto area had ever set foot on a farm. 

Sam caught Dean as he slipped his hand into his pocket. If he got kicked out of a house party because his estranged brother stole something-

“Hey Sam!” A girl, Maddie, waved him over to where she stood in front of a granite island, a city of liquor bottles before her. “Need another drink?” 

“Yeah, for me and my brother.” Sam glanced to Dean, gauging his reaction to her. She was blond, skinny, smiley, innocent and friendly at first, but Maddie knew how to charm. Sam caught onto that when she batted her eyelashes and bit the end of her pencil before asking to borrow Sam’s Spanish notes. 

Dean gave her a once-over and responded, tone flat, “Whiskey.” 

Not even a hot girl could win Dean over. Fuck.

“Well, I’m all out of whiskey, but I swiped a bottle of bourbon out of my dad’s cabinet.” She said around a smile, “Hope that's okay.” 

In moments, Dean was sporting a smile. It definitely had something to do with the red Solo cup half full of Woodford Reserve. 

“So, this is your big brother huh?” Maddie leaned over the counter top and bit her lower lip. “You never mentioned him. Is it because he’s handsome?” 

Sam took a long sip from his cup to avoid answering.

“Thanks.” Dean replied, finally cracking a smile, “He’ll get there eventually”

Liquid warmth dripped down into the pit of Sam’s stomach. That smile. He hadn’t seen that in months. Dean’s lower lip was wet with alcohol. Most freshmen would cringe at the taste, but Sam knew how to appreciate a smooth bourbon. He knew how to savor something that was dark and sweet. 

Sam glanced up to meet Dean’s eyes and saw a question there.

“You okay, Sammy?” 

Sam sent quick look to Maddie and then back to Dean, “It’s Sam.” 

That little smile Dean wore dropped. Sam could tell exactly what Dean was thinking. _Kid goes off to big boy college and suddenly he’s going only by “Sam” and he thinks he’s better than me._

But he wasn’t a kid anymore, and he wasn’t better than Dean. Just the life their dad chose-

He needed to stop. They weren’t even having this conversation. 

Sam had called him because he was having fun and wanted Dean there with him. If he could just lighten up, maybe that could still happen. 

“So Dean,” Maddie started, a glint in her eye, “Ever do a body shot?” 

“Absolutely.” Dean checked on Sam, ”Have you had that cherry popped yet?”

“Earlier, actually,” Sam lifted his chin. 

Dean’s eyebrows raised in surprise and Sam felt a surge of self confidence. 

“Come on,” Sam put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. It felt good under his palm, strong, stable, “Let's do some body shots.” 

“Hell yeah.” 

Maddie lead them to where a couple of her friends were hanging out in the living room. They wore mini skirts and held Smirnoff ice in manicured hands. Amy and Nicole. Sam vaguely recognized them from classes, but he knew them a little better now after drinking a shot from each of their chests. 

Within a couple minutes he took a third shot off Nicole, tipping his head back to swallow the tequila, leaning in for the lime. 

Sour. Made him wince. Amy- Nicole giggled at him. Sam checked on Dean. 

Dean took his time, licking the salt off Maddie’s neck before ducking down for the shot held between her breasts. Pink fingernails combed through Dean’s hair as he lingered with his face in her bust. Sam could see the curve of a smile on Dean’s face before he tilted back with the glass in his mouth.

The back of Dean’s hand wiped at his pretty pink lips, and then he went in for that lime. Sam’s eyes narrowed as Dean took the lime from Maddie’s mouth, brushing his nose against hers in the process. 

Sam put on a smile when Dean turned around with a cheerfully stunned grin on his face. He wanted to have fun, right? This was fun, watching his brother with someone else. 

Dean nodded his head when he eyed the collection of empty shot glasses on the table, “I guess they _do_ teach some valuable life skills in college.”

“I guess you could say that.” Sam shrugged.

“Can’t be that bad then. Girls, drinking, parties.”

“Not bad at all,” Sam agreed, like a liar. 

Dean had no idea that this is his first actual college party. His first night flirting with girls, first night of heavy drinking, first night of calling his brother- 

A finger in Dean’s belt loop pulled his attention away. Maddie carefully placed a loaded shot glass in the waistband of his jeans. “Your turn.” 

“Yeah?” Dean sounded giddy as she sprinkled some salt on his neck, “Okay, who’s first?” 

“You know what would be kinda hot?” Maddie gave one of those big smiles of hers where she bit her lip and Sam knew something devious was coming next. She lowered her voice silky smooth and low. Sam could just barely hear what she was saying. _What if Sam did it?_

His stomach dropped and he _wanted_. 

He shouldn’t, but he _wanted_ this. 

Dean locked eyes with him. 

Sam licked his lips. 

“You up for that?” 

“Yeah, yeah okay.”

Sam stepped up, hesitated. Was this really happening? It wasn’t some joke? 

“You sure you’ve done these before Sammy?” Dean tilted his head to the side and tapped his neck. The line of salt was waiting for his mouth, “Start right here.” 

Sam moved into Dean’s space. He could smell him. Bourbon, sour lime, sweat, a hint of cologne that didn’t mask anything, but still made Sam breathe in deep. Before he left, Sam shoved one of Dean’s shirts deep in his bag. He balled it up tight, but over time it lost his scent. Sam kept inhaling, trying to fill his lungs with something that wasn’t there. 

The music in the background blurred to a fuzzy bass as he brought his open mouth down to Dean’s neck. 

He felt Dean inhale when he licked. He was slow about it. Maybe he was lingering too long, but he couldn’t help it. He’s missed Dean. 

Now the shot. 

Sam went to his knees. The shot glass was wedged between Dean’s waistband and his stomach. The liquid moved and rocked with each breath Dean took. The edge of the glass just barely prevented spilling. Through the amber tequila, Sam could see a sparse line of hair sticking to the wet glass. Wished he could lick there too. 

Dean’s shirt fell down when he leaned in. This wouldn’t work, it had to be hands free. Sam glanced up. Those green eyes were eaten up by his black pupils blown wide. It sent a shiver down Sam’s spine. Dean looked dazed, awestruck. If that mouth wasn’t biting on a lime rind, Sam swore Dean’s jaw would be on the floor. 

“Hold this.”

Dean nodded and held his shirt up. Sam angled his chin, carefully grabbing the shot glass with his mouth. He slid it out of Dean’s waistband and cautiously stood. Sam thought about balancing an egg on a spoon. 

As soon as he fully stood, Sam jerked his head back and drank down the shot. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Maddie watching, eyes hungry. 

Time for the lime. Almost forgot. Sam was in Dean’s space again. When pulled back with the lime, Sam noticed Dean’s eyes were closed, like he had been expecting a kiss. 

“That was hot,” Amy commented, swinging her dark hair over her shoulder. 

“Told you,” Maddie winked at her friends, “Show guys a little cleavage and they’ll do anything.”

Sam squinted at Dean. Maybe his cheeks were flushed? He couldn’t tell.

“Can you blame me?” Dean’s charming persona snapped right back into place.

Sam should have called him. He didn’t want Dean to hide. Wanted to see him for who he was. 

“Shoulda called you,” Sam murmured. 

“Sam-” Dean’s eyes darted around to make sure no one was really watching them, “Sam, you’re drunk.” 

“So? Does that matter?” 

Sam watched Dean’s eyes travel to the door and his stomach sank, “I should go…” 

“No,” Sam’s hand landed on his shoulder again to stop him from going. God, it felt like Dean just got here. After being around his brother near constantly for all his life, seven months was forever. If Dean left- It was different when Sam was the one to go off without him, but if Dean left right now- “Don’t go. Drive me home at least.”

“You have other friends to do that.” 

“They’re all sloshed.” 

“Then sleep here with one of the girls-”

“I don’t want that.” 

“You don’t wanna go?” Dean pursed his lips. Sam knew it was a sign he was winning, “Fine, we won't leave, but we’re going somewhere else.” 

The room spun as Sam was pulled from his seat and the room churned with people as Dean hauled him through the crowd, shouldering past anyone in their way. 

“Where are we going?” Either Dean didn’t hear him, or Dean pretended not to hear him. Sam was pushed out the back door of the house. 

Aquamarine illuminated Dean’s face into a pale grey as they passed the outdoor pool. Cold spring air swept past Sam’s face, and he could smell a touch of chlorine. The steady snare and bass drum from the party grew softer and softer. The only details he could hear were guitar now, wailing, and swinging, and high.

No one was out here. It was March, too early for a pool party. The blue glow swirled by him as he was pushed into the pool house. It was dark, but the windows were large and the string lights outside were bright enough to let Sam see Dean. It was so quiet out here, the rest of the world muffled. It all seemed so far away. 

“Why the hell did you drag me out here?” How did Dean know there was a pool house out here in the first place? Did he scope out the place because he didn’t trust it? 

Dean didn’t answer his question. He checked out one of the windows, pushing blinds aside, “What the fuck are we doing, Sam?” 

“We’re having fun.”

Dean turned around and shook his head, ran a hand through his own hair and clenched at the roots, “We’re doing fucking body shots and pretending like what happened never happened.” 

“I’m not pretending I didn’t leave, Dean.” Sam sent Dean a size M Stanford shirt as soon as he stepped off the Greyhound that took him there. Sometimes he wondered what Dean did with it. “I’m trying to have fun with you. I’m trying to show you what a normal life could be like.” 

“Normal life?” Dean’s upper lip curled as he spat the words, “Sam, you are surrounded by people who don’t even _know_ you-” 

A punch to the gut. None of his friends he’d ever made knew him. He’d only spent a month or two at a school, max. Making friends took time, at least that's what Sam told himself. “Fuck you they do know me” 

“They know you?” Dean barked out a bitter laugh, “They didn’t even know you had a brother.”

“So? They know other stuff about me! Like that I wanna be a public defender, they know I have aspirations, dreams-” 

“Okay then-”

“And they know that I get sick of classic rock all the time! It’s the same fucking shit. Over and over.” Sam counted off on his fingers, “News story, research, fight the monster, sew each other up, watch dad drink till he pukes- ” 

Sam could feel his throat tightening up. Choking. Dean didn’t understand-

“It’s the same song over and over.” 

“I know,” Dean’s voice lost some of it’s edge. Dean frowned at the floor. Couldn’t look at him.

“I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“I know,” Dean’s voice was soft, the admission low, “-but I can barely do it without you.” 

It came as another blow. In Sam’s eyes, Dean was always so sure of himself. He knew who he was, what he was doing, where he was headed. To hear him like this, sounding lost- 

Sam wanted to pull him into a hug. Tell him he’d always be there. That he wouldn’t let Dean go back alone. Back to dingy motels and their fucked up family revenge. 

But.

There was that other thing. That thing that swam just beneath the murky black surface that Sam was running from. 

Sam’s face contorted and he and shook his head, “I can’t go back.” 

“Fine.” Dean held up his hands, “Feel free to get wasted out of your mind around a bunch of strangers who know you love Radiohead and literally nothing else about you.”

Sam took a deep breath to steady himself. Dean was about to leave. Sam wanted him to stay. Wanted him to stay or-

“That sound normal to you Sam?” 

A bitter laugh left Sam’s throat before he could help it. Dean had no idea, “Never been normal. Just wanna pretend for a bit.” 

“You don’t have to pretend to be normal. You’re fine, just come back-”

“Yes I do, Dean. If I’m not pretending here, then I’d be pretending with you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

Sam came close, got up into his space again. He watched as Dean’s eyes grew wide, then Sam closed his eyes.

Dean’s lips were soft, sweet. As soon as his eyes had closed, the world started to slant. Kissing Dean was the only thing keeping Sam from sliding off the earth. 

He should be careful. The way Dean looked down at him earlier. That heat. He knew on some level, Dean wanted this, too. Or maybe just the idea of it. But he didn’t know for sure. 

Sam’s hand was on the surface of the water, waiting to see if the thing underneath would brush up against his palm, or bite it clean off. 

Sam’s hand laid flat against Dean’s cheek, fingertips brushing his ear, just a hint of a touch-

And Dean’s mouth was opening, teeth catching Sam’s lower lip. They were sharp. He couldn’t help the moan as the kiss deepened. Lime. Sam wanted to lick it all away to taste what was underneath. 

Dean pulled back, just enough to speak, lips moving against Sam’s, “This is what you wanna do?”

Sam let out a shaky breath as Dean’s hands found him, tugging at his waist to move him closer. To walk him back against the nearest wall. Nearly knocking over a wicker chair. 

“This is what you want?” 

His voice was low. Sam was pinned. Usually when Sam heard that tone it was when Dean was whispering something filthy into a girl’s ear at a bar, but now it was just for him. All for him. Dean was pressed against his front, full body contact, solid. Was this really happening? Sam was having a hard time keeping up as Dean’s hands slid from his waist to his ass, grabbing a handful. Sam jumped. 

“You want me like this?” 

Dean’s hips bumped firmly against his own and Sam could feel he was hard. _God_. Sam closed his eyes and the back of his head thumped against the wall behind him. Sam felt loose and hazy. Sam wanted this, but- 

“You know I’d give you anything, anything you want,” Dean growled into his neck, his hips rubbing against Sam’s. It felt like Dean was as desperate for contact as he was. 

It felt like his head was entirely disconnected from his body. He could feel everything, every little rich grind of Dean’s hips, but his thoughts were blurry, “Wait, wait-”

“You call me, I come runnin’,” Sam could hear Dean’s voice break. Of course Dean would come for him. Sam never had a doubt. Dean would do anything, give him anything. It made Sam want to slide down the wall and open up Dean’s jeans, take out his cock and suck down as much as he could. Maybe Dean would fuck his mouth, make him choke on it for leaving- 

Dean flipped him around and everything started moving in slow motion. Sam braced his hands on the wall, keeping his face from being shoved into it. His belt buckle jingled and his pants fell to the floor. Dean pressed up behind him full body, a hand slipping down the back of his boxer briefs. 

On one level, it was comforting to have Dean like this. The physical feel of his brother covering him, warm. But it was also disorienting. Dean’s fingers were slick with something and pressing into him when they’d never been anywhere near there before. Sam spread his legs as much as he could with his jeans around his ankles. An embarrassing whine tumbled out of his mouth as a finger slipped inside, then what felt like just moments, another. It wasn’t comfortable.

“Ease up…” Sam’s mouth grew thin and his hands balled into fists on the wall when Dean ignored him, moving his fingers in and out at his own pace. He felt like a marionette, every twitch of Dean’s fingers making Sam’s hips move back, or his throat work, or his back arch-

The fingers left and Sam heard something plastic tearing behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Dean’s opening a condom. Extra lubricated. Dean’s cock was out in the open, jutting from the V of his open button and zipper. _Fuck_.

Dean took out the condom and caught Sam’s eyes. The way Dean was looking at him. Hungry, hurt. Sam would give him anything right now 

Pinching the condom between his fingers and fixing Sam with a filthy stare that drifted from his eyes to his ass and back again, Dean asked, “Is there a reason I shouldn’t fuck you raw?” 

Sam’s mouth felt dry. His cock throbbed where it hung heavy between his legs. He shook his head. 

“Good,” Dean turned the condom over and emptied it over his cock, then smeared the few globs of lube it produced. 

Dean shifted forward and Sam felt the blunt end of his cock stretch him open. _Oh god._ It felt so big. 

“Dean-” His own voice sounded broken as Dean kept pushing in, “Dean, slow down-”

The inward slide didn’t stop till Dean was bottomed out. _Asshole_. 

Sam knew that Dean was gonna start moving here in a second. Maybe he could stall it, let himself loosen up more, “Wait-”

“You didn’t fucking wait, Sam, not even when I begged.” 

Dean pulled back and slid in smoothly and it was painful, but Sam needed it to be like this. Sam needed to let Dean use him.

Sam knew he was making noises. He let himself. Dean was making noises, too. Throaty sounds, aching, but so fucking good to hear. He had wanted this for years. Dean needing him, fucking him like he’d been deprived his whole life.

“Dean...Dean... Dean…” Each time he chanted Dean’s name, Dean drove into him harder and harder until Sam was bracing himself on the wall with his forearms. 

Sam let his head fall, watching two sets of legs. His new Converse shoes were wide apart and bracing for impact while Dean’s mud smeared boots rocked with the movement. Sam watched his own cock bob, precome dribbling down the tip. Untouched. He reached a hand down, but Dean picked him up by his shoulder, changing the angle as he fucked up into him, spreading him out on the wall. 

Dean’s mouth and teeth were on his ear, tone low and saying shit like, “You studying hard? Getting all A’s? Huh, Sammy?” 

“Dean, please-” 

Sam didn’t have to beg twice. Dean’s hand found his cock and jerked him hard and fast. 

He was beyond speech, Dean’s cock hitting that perfect spot inside him. Dean’s hand perfectly tight and slick around his dick. Sam was losing it, losing himself. He needed to come bad, now-

“That's it, that’s it, Sammy.” 

Sam came messily all over Dean’s hand, his shirt, the wall, the floor. It only took a couple seconds for Dean to finish behind him with a shuddering groan. Sam pushed back weakly to help him through it. Wanted to make it good for him. 

He felt Dean’s forehead on his shoulder, breath warm on his back. The hand on Sam’s shoulder loosened its grip, snuck around, an embrace. Comfort. Keeping him safe in a scary, bleak world. 

That warm feeling of contentment vanished when he heard Dean whisper in a sob, quiet and miserable.

“You left me. You left me.” 

\---

It was weird to be back in the Impala again, but some things were exactly the same. An uncomfortable silence lingered between them. Sam wanted to talk about it. To tell Dean that he’d do anything for him, but there was no way he could come back. That this college life was a promise of a future without a bullet lodged in his chest. 

But Dean wasn’t looking at him. Just staring at the road as he drove. Familiar streets passed, and Sam realized that he hadn’t told Dean the address to his dorm. 

The streetlights passed one by one, shading Dean in darkness, then light, then darkness again. Sam kept looking at him out of the corner of his eye, wondering what other sides his brother had to him that Sam had yet to see. There were parts he’d built up in his head. Longed for. Pined for. 

But the more he looked at Dean, the less recognizable he became. 

The way he broke. Dean was more human than hero. 

Sam loved him for it. _Loved him._

Dean pulled the car over. They were at his dorm. 

Finally, Dean looked his way, an impermeable mask of neutrality on his face, “You okay?” 

_Okay?_

“Yeah.” 

“Good.” Dean looked around the area from the car. The dorm building was modern, blocky. Dean didn’t seem to have an opinion about it from his silence. 

“I guess I’ll get going,” Sam opened the door of the car. 

“Yeah. I’ll wash your shirt,” Dean glanced in the back of the car where a ball of t-shirt lay wadded up. Sam’s Stanford shirt, streaked with his come. “I’ll mail it back to you.”

Sam huffed through his nose and grimaced a smile, “Thanks.”

This was the last he would see Dean for a while, he guessed. Maybe the last time they talked for another seven months. Maybe longer. 

“See ya,” Sam offered a weak wave. He had to keep his face from crumbling. Had to keep it together until he got inside. 

“See ya,” Dean replied. Sam could see his throat bobbing. Then he was gone. The engine sounded deafening in the still darkness of four a.m. when Dean pulled away. Sam stood there until he couldn’t see the car anymore. 

\---

When Sam opened his mail a week later, there was a package with no return address. He gave a tight lipped smile when he opened it to see cardinal. His shirt. 

Sam folded it to put away, but something nagged at him. A suspicion. He checked the tag.

Size M. 

Sam pressed the shirt to his face and inhaled.


End file.
